The Law of Second Chances (44 page)

They thanked Harvey and left.

“What do you think?” Henry asked as they were walking back to the car. “If we went now and found him, would Milton Jeffries be as ornery as you?”

“My guess is yes,” Valentine replied. “He’s a man who was spooked by something, and he’s probably still spooked. If you came up to my house in the dark you might be dead now. It’s been a long day, it’s freezing out, and in case you haven’t noticed, we’re not properly dressed for this weather. I think we should get a hotel room and get a good night’s sleep and start out fresh in the morning.”

“I guess you’re right,” Henry replied. “We’d probably get lost anyway.”

Henry called Jack at six-thirty as planned and gave him a brief, almost cryptic summary of the day’s events, remembering Jack’s concern about revealing too much over the phone. He didn’t mention any names or where they were or where they were going the next day—-just that getting to New York by Friday was not going to happen.

“Sorry about that, Jack, but we’ve just had a little trouble with, um, directions.”

“I understand, Henry. Just let me know when you have a better idea.”

“Will do. How are things at your end?”

“Not bad. I was hoping to have you back here tomorrow,
but I think I’ll be okay for now,” he said, thinking to himself that he’d definitely have to put at least one of the prosecution’s witnesses on the stand.

Jack worked for another hour before calling Molly. It was a routine now. She didn’t even bother to say hello.

“Are you ready?” she asked when she picked up the phone.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Jack replied.

Molly looked radiant once again. Her cheeks were red from the cold, which made her even more desirable to Jack.

“How’d it go today?” she asked as usual.

“Pretty good,” Jack replied. “We made some good points, and we haven’t even started our defense yet.”

Molly changed the subject. This was relaxation time. “So, where do you want to go on vacation?” she asked.

“Didn’t you just come back from vacation?”

“Yeah, but I can always take a Friday and a Monday to fly to London or something like that. I’m management, after all.”

“London would be nice. But how about Aruba or Jamaica or somewhere like that? I need to warm up these bones.”

Molly laughed. “I’m flexible. Aruba would be fine. How about next weekend?”

“Sounds great. The trial will definitely be over by then. I’ll need the break.”

“So will I,” Molly replied. “I’ve got to go out of town tomorrow until next Tuesday. We’re having one of those business conventions.”

“That’s a vacation too, isn’t it?” Jack chided.

“I wish. I’ll be giving talks all weekend.”

“I won’t see you after tonight until next Tuesday?”

“I’m afraid so,” she said, looking at him with doe eyes.

“I’ll miss you.” Jack really meant it. He was starting to count on their little rendezvous every night. Molly knew how to get him to relax.

“I’ll miss you too, Jack.”

Friday morning was another frigid day, with the thermometer hovering in the teens. Very few spectators were braving the elements outside, although the courtroom was as packed as it had been the two previous days.

Luis was in his usual spot. “How are you feeling, Jack?”

“Good. How about you?”

“Pretty good. The coroner didn’t hurt us too bad, did he?”

“No, Luis. He may have helped us. It all remains to be seen.”

Jack didn’t want to give Luis false hope, but he was feeling pretty confident. Just then the guards brought Benny into the courtroom. He had the charcoal gray suit on with a blue striped tie and a white shirt.

“Benny, you look better every day,” Jack told him.

Benny smiled. “It’s all my dad’s doing,” he said, turning to look at his father. Luis beamed.

Across the aisle, Spencer was pacing as he waited for the judge’s appearance. Jack noticed that he was excited and smiling. Something was up.

Promptly at nine, Langford Middleton walked into the courtroom. After giving his daily sermon to the spectators, he turned to the lawyers.

“Is there anything we need to take up before we bring the jury in?”

Spencer stood up. “Yes, your honor. May we approach?”

Langford looked puzzled. A sidebar when there was no jury in the room was a little unusual, but Jack was pretty sure he knew what was going on: the dandy had something he didn’t want the spectators to hear yet.

“Come on,” the judge said impatiently. “What is it?” he asked when they were standing in front of his dais.

“Your honor, the police department got an anonymous tip last night. We believe we’ve found the gun that killed Carl Robertson.”

Jack had been expecting trouble, but even so, he was shocked. He was relieved that Spencer hadn’t announced it in open court because Luis probably would have had a heart attack right on the spot. He couldn’t think about Luis now;
he had to concentrate on the problem at hand. How he responded could be crucial to the case.

After a slight pause to savor the bombshell he had dropped, Spencer continued. “The police have the gun in custody, your honor. They picked it up this morning. I’ve spoken to one of the department’s ballistics experts—his name is Pete Ingram—and he says he can do all the necessary tests today to determine if this is in fact the murder weapon. He also says he could meet with Mr. Tobin late this afternoon to answer questions. I’ll need a one-day delay to handle these matters, but I can be finished on Monday.”

This was the fly in the ointment Langford Middleton had dreaded. So far he had handled everything. Now Spencer Taylor had to drop this in his lap. He looked at Jack.

“Well, Mr. Tobin?”

Jack cut right to the chase. “Judge, I’d like to make a motion for a mistrial. My client’s due-process rights would be violated if these proceedings continue. This trial has been pending for a year. Now, all of a sudden, after four days of trial, a gun appears. In addition, your honor, I don’t have the opportunity to get my own expert. We are at a total disadvantage.”

Jack knew this was the moment to make a record for appeal. If Langford didn’t grant his motion and give him time to get his own expert, Jack would have a better-than-average shot at overturning a conviction on appeal. At the moment, that was looking like Benny’s best hope.

Langford Middleton didn’t reply right away; he was trying to think of a way to keep the whole thing from falling apart. His stomach was grumbling.

After a long few moments he looked at Jack. “We don’t have to make a decision today on your motion, Mr. Tobin. We’ll let Officer Ingram do his tests, and you can meet with him and talk to him. Who knows? He may not be able to say this gun is the murder weapon. I’ll tell you this, Mr. Tobin: the people of the state of New York have rights too. They have a right to see that justice is served, not delayed. If Mr. Ingram determines that this is the gun that killed Mr. Robertson, I’ll want to hear this opinion outside of the presence of the jury before making my final decision on your motion. Now, is there anything else?”

“Yes, Judge,” Spencer Taylor replied. “I am requesting that you enter an order releasing prosecution’s exhibit number 6—that’s the bullet, your honor—to Detective Severino so that he can deliver it to the state’s ballistics expert.”

“So ordered. Anything else?”

“No, Judge,” they both answered.

The lawyers returned to their tables and the judge addressed the spectators. “Ladies and gentlemen, some new matters of evidence have come up, as they often do during trials of this nature. We are going to have to recess for the day. We will resume promptly on Monday morning. Please leave the courtroom now in an orderly manner.”

He called the jury in next and gave them the same speech. The judge then left the courtroom.

Spencer walked over to Jack, who was huddled with Luis and Benny. “Call me at three o’clock this afternoon,” Spencer said, cutting in. “We can probably set up a meeting with the firearms guy at that time.” Jack nodded curtly, and Spencer turned and left.

Only Jack, Benny, Luis, and Benny’s guards now remained in the courtroom. The guards gave them room to talk.

“What happened?” Luis asked.

Jack looked at Benny. “I don’t want you to say anything during this conversation. Just listen.” He turned back to Luis. “They think they found the murder weapon.”

“They think?”

“They have to test it. That’s the reason for the delay.”

“This is bullshit. They’ve had this all along. They just waited to spring it on us.”

“Hold on there, Luis. We don’t even know if it’s the gun.”

“Do you think their expert, a police officer, is going to say it’s not the gun, Jack? Come on.”

“But he has to give reasons, and we can attack his reasons.”

“It doesn’t matter, Jack.”

“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that if they have the gun Benny has any chance of getting off.”

“Luis, the gun doesn’t really put them in a better position. They had the bullet. Now they have the bullet and the gun. Who shot the gun is the issue.”

“I don’t trust these people, Jack. There’s more to this, you watch. The dandy has something else up his sleeve.”

Jack felt it too. Spencer was holding something back. They would have to wait until Monday to find out what it was. “You may be right, Luis. We’ll just have to deal with it as it comes—make our objections for the record and keep fighting.”

Benny sat silently through the whole exchange, but his expression spoke volumes.

63

Henry and Valentine set out early Friday morning for Castle Hill Lake, stopping first at the local Wal-Mart to buy winter coats. It was freezing cold, and the roads were icy. Valentine turned out to be very good at directions and they found Milton Jeffries’s cabin without too much trouble; it was right on the lake. Unfortunately, the door was locked and nobody was home.

While Henry tried the windows, Valentine walked around to the back porch that faced the lake and did some investigating of his own. Henry caught up with him out on the dock. The lake was frozen, and there were some fresh snowmobile tracks leading from the dock.

“It snowed here last night, so those tracks have to be fresh,” Valentine told Henry. “Which means he left this morning. Who knows where the hell he went?”

“Damn!” Henry exclaimed. “We should have come last night.”

“We never would have found this place last night, Henry, you know that. We’ll just wait.”

“That’s a big lake out there, Valentine. He might be gone for days.”

“Unless he’s got a cabin out there on the ice or a honey on the other side of the lake, he’ll be back today. He’d freeze out there overnight.”

“We’re going to freeze here,” Henry replied.

“Let’s just go find a place to eat and we’ll come back from time to time and check on the place.”

At four o’clock that afternoon Jack met at a downtown office with Pete Ingram, the firearms expert who had analyzed the newfound gun. Jack had anticipated that Spencer Taylor would be present during the conversation. He never expected to be able to question the prosecution’s expert alone. Spencer had to be extremely confident.

Pete Ingram got right to it. “They told me to tell you everything, so here it is. The gun they found is a Glock 17 semiautomatic. All the serial numbers were filed off, so we couldn’t tell where it was purchased or who purchased it. You probably know how we test a gun to see if it was used in a crime, but I’ll tell you anyway.” Jack smiled and nodded encouragement for him to continue. “It’s very simple. We load the gun with a cartridge or bullet of the same make and type as the one found at the scene. We then fire the gun into a soft material, retrieve the slug, and compare it under a microscope with the slug found at the scene to see if the lands and grooves match. I assume you’re familiar with those terms?”

Jack nodded again and said, “Yes, thanks. So what did you find?”

“I could show you the slides, but it’s easier if I describe it. I can tell that the slug from the crime scene is from a Glock. Their grooves are unique, and there’s enough there for me to determine that. But I can’t compare the slugs. The one found at the crime scene is too distorted. Thus, I can’t match that slug to the gun that was found.”

Jack couldn’t believe his ears. The system actually did work. He started to smile but caught himself. Now was not the time to relax. Spencer Taylor might have other surprises up his sleeve.

Henry called Jack that night.

“How’s it going?” Henry asked.

“Not well. They supposedly found the murder weapon yesterday.”

“You’re kidding me! A year later, in the middle of trial, they find the gun? That’s a little convenient, isn’t it?”

“It sure is, but I think we can deal with it. Have you got anything?”

“Are you sure we should do this over the phone?”

“Stick to the ground rules we talked about and we’ll take the chance. I really need some good news.”

“Well, the good news is we found our man. The bad news is, he won’t talk to us. We waited for him to come home all day, and when he finally arrived, he wouldn’t talk to us. This guy is really spooked. He knows something, and I’m not sure what it is. I think we’re dealing with something that’s way over our heads, Jack.”